It was dark when he reached home, and as the evening had closed in with a heavy rain, the house presented rather a cheerless appearance, particularly as, in consequence of Mrs. Noah’s not expecting him that day, no fires had been kindled in the parlors, or in any room except the library. There a bright coal fire was blazing in the grate, and thither Guy repaired, finding there, as he expected, Jessie and her teacher. Not liking to intrude on Mr. Guy, of whom she still stood somewhat in awe, Maddy soon arose to leave, but Guy bade her stay; he should be lonely without her, he said; and so, bringing her work, she sat down to sew, while Jessie looked over a book of prints, and Guy upon the lounge studied the face which, it seemed to him, grew each day more and more beautiful. Then he talked with her of books, and the lessons which were to be resumed on the morrow, watching her as her bright face sparkled and glowed with excitement. Then he questioned her of her father’s family, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction in knowing that the Clydes were not a race of whose blood any one need be ashamed; and Maddy was more like them, he was sure, than like the Markhams, and Guy shivered a little as he recalled the peculiar dialect of Mr. and Mrs. Markham, and remembered that they were Maddy’s grandparents. Not that it was anything to him. Only as an inmate of his family he felt interested in her, more so perhaps than young men were apt to be interested in their sister’s governess.
Had Guy then been asked the question, he would, in all probability, have acknowledged that in his heart there was a feeling of superiority to Maddy Clyde; that she was not quite the equal of Aikenside’s heir, nor yet of Lucy Atherstone. It was natural; he had been educated to feel the difference, but any haughty arrogance of which he might have been guilty was kept down by his extreme good sense, and generous, impulsive nature. He liked Maddy; he liked to look at her as, in the becoming crimson merino which he really and Jessie nominally had given her, she sat before him, with the firelight falling on her beautiful hair, and making shadows on her sunny face.
Guy was luxurious in his tastes and it seemed to him that Maddy was just the picture to set off that room, or, in fact, all the rooms at Aikenside. She would disgrace none of them, and he found himself wishing that Providence had made her something to him—sister or cousin, or anything that would make her one of the Remington line.
It did not take long for the people in the neighborhood to hear that Guy Remington had turned schoolmaster, and had in his library for two hours or more each day Jessie’s little girl-governess, about whose beauty there was so much said; people wondering, as people will, where it would end, and if it could be possible that the haughty Guy had forgotten his English fiancée and was educating a wife.
The doctor, to whom these remarks were sometimes made, silently gnashed his teeth, then said savagely that “if Guy chose to teach Maddy Clyde, he did not see whose business it was,” and then rode over to Aikenside to see the teacher and pupil, half hoping that Guy would soon tire of his project and give it up. But Guy grew more and more pleased with his employment, until, at last, from giving Maddy two hours of his time, he gave her four, esteeming them the pleasantest of the whole twenty-four. Guy was proud of Maddy’s improvement, and often praised her to the doctor, who also marveled at the rapid development of her mind and the progress she made, grasping a knotty point almost before it was explained, and retaining with wonderful tenacity what she had learned.
It mattered nothing to Guy that the neighbors gossiped; there were none familiar enough to tell him what was said, except the doctor or Mrs. Noah; and so he heard few of the remarks made so frequently. As in Honedale, so in Sommerville Maddy was a favorite, and those who interested themselves most in the matter never said anything worse of her and Mr. Guy than that he might perhaps be educating his own wife, and insinuating that it would be a great “catch” for Grandfather Markham’s child. But Maddy never dreamed of such a thing, and kept on her pleasant way, reciting every day to Guy, and going every Wednesday to the red cottage, whither, after his first visit to Uncle Joseph, Guy never accompanied her. Jessie, on the contrary, went often to Honedale, where the lunatic always greeted her coming, stealing up closely to her, and whispering softly, “My Daisy has come again.”
He had called her Sarah at first, and then changed the name to “Daisy,” which he persisted in calling her, watching from his window for her coming, and crying whenever Maddy appeared without her. At first Agnes, in her letters, forbade Jessie’s going so often to see a lunatic; but when Jessie described the poor, crazy man’s delight at sight of her, telling how quiet and happy he seemed if he could but lay his hand on her head, or touch her hair, she withdrew her restrictions, and, as if moved to an unwonted burst of tenderness, wrote to her daughter, “Comfort that crazy man all you can; he needs it so much.”
A few weeks after this there came another letter from Agnes, but this time it was to Guy, and its contents darkened his handsome face with anger and vexation. Incidentally Agnes had heard the gossip, and written it to Guy, adding, in conclusion: “Of course I know it is not true, for even if there were no Lucy Atherstone, you, of all men, would not stoop to Maddy Clyde. I do not presume to advise, but I will say this, that now she is growing a young lady, people will keep on talking so long as you keep her there in the house; and it’s hardly fair toward Lucy.”
Latterly Guy had fancied that the doctor did not like the educating process, while even Mrs. Noah managed to keep Maddy out of his way as soon as the lessons were ended. What did they mean? What were they afraid of, and why did they presume to interfere with him? He would know, at all events; and summoning Mrs. Noah to his presence, he read her that part of Agnes’s letter pertaining to Maddy, and asked what it meant.
“It means this, that folks are in a constant worry, for fear you’ll fall in love with Maddy Clyde.”